In February I initiated the process of cataloguing my late Uncle Chris Holme's many artworks, most of which are currently stored at my aunty and uncle - his brother and sister's - house in Preston, my hometown. He had been a prolific painter, but never exhibited the vast majority of his work, and suffered from health problems which meant he was never able to complete an art degree. Luckily my mother, Bernie Velvick and my step-father Dave Curry have volunteered to help, and we have been photographing, documenting, numbering, wrapping and labelling the works whenever I can make it to Preston for a day. Dave takes responsibility for cleaning; wiping each painting with a soft brush, and hoovering the back, whilst Bernie and I wrap, measure and label the works.
For the first couple of days in February I had been photographing the works, and uploading them to a Tumblr straight away; it seemed imperative to have them seen as soon as possible, when they had been hidden away for so long. The pictures were uploaded in a completely arbitrary order, which was perhaps foolish, but hopefully worth the trouble it caused later for them to have been accessible on line. Now we have begun to number and document each painting and drawing in a spreadsheet, with details of size, material and a thumbnail image, it makes sense for the tumblr to correspond. Thus, where once there were 90 images, there are now only 48, because that's how many we've managed to wrap and label so far, but with more detailed descriptions - the project is slowly starting to take shape and make sense.
At an Islington Mill Art Academy 'crit' on the 5th of April I presented the project, via the Tumblr blog, and three works brought from Preston, receiving some good feedback and inspiration for how to progress. It was really helpful to get perspectives and opinions from people outside of my family, and who didn't know Chris personally - I think it would be disingenuous to pretend that my opinions of, and interactions with the works aren't affected by, and interlinked with my particular relationship with the artist. It has been an incredible experience to spend time sorting through and interacting with such a huge body of work, and it can't help but feel like an investigation; examining each work from every angle to find signatures and dates, discovering pictures on the back of other pictures, and what appear to be acrylic paintings over older oil ones. Fellow I.M.A.A member, Rachel Newsome, who's writing evokes contemporary mythologies and fables, expressed an interest in writing an essay about Chris's work, particularly his many and varied self portraits.
In-keeping with the spirit of investigation, I'm hoping to compile a biography of Chris J Holme through interviews conducted with his Mother - my Grandmother - along with his brothers and sisters, and any friends that we can contact. I had been debating how to go about producing a biography, which I feel is necessary if the works are to be exhibited, and would make an on-line archive comprehensible, but which could easily be misinterpreted. I am hoping that by conducting interviews, and perhaps presenting them as interviews, rather than prose, I can avoid fictionalising Chris's life, whilst still providing a context for the works. Some information about the artists' life will, I think, be necessary to understand why the paint has a dark patina of dust - although we have attempted cleaning - and why so many works are painted on corrugated cardboard, and the boards that back sketchbooks.
Friday, 24 May 2013
CJH
Labels:
acrylic paint,
catalogue,
CJH,
discovery,
family,
fine art,
outsider artist,
Preston,
restoration
Monday, 6 May 2013
Objects for a Studio: an essay on three aspects
Introduction
Objects for a Studio is an on-going
project by Manchester based artist Jessica Longmore, the traces of
which are documented and displayed in a series of intriguing
pictures. As part of her process, Longmore constructs temporary and
often precarious sculptures, capturing each of them with a single
photograph. As with so many aspects of this project, the sculptures
exhibit a contradiction in that they appear to be almost homogenous
with their environment, formed and built as they are from found
objects and materials mined by Longmore from the active studios
within which she works. Yet whilst these sculptures have been
assembled from the ephemera of one artist's practice, they are the
work of another artist altogether; it is for this unstable
intermingling of artistic identity that they verge on the uncanny.
Appearing out of place only for a brief moment, their precarious
nature signals that these leant and balanced assemblages could at any
point be absorbed into the debris from which they have been wrought.
In the course of Objects for a Studio
Longmore spends an entire single day within an Other Artist's studio,
producing one piece of work as a stranger within the space.
Describing the time she spends in these studios as residencies,
Longmore keeps within a rigid timeframe and structure - one day, one
photograph, purposefully fabricating a specialized situation within
which she can react to her surroundings and create work with a
necessary intensity. The studio itself is defined as a dedicated
space, thereby sidestepping historical and canonically ingrained
stereotypes about what it should look like, and what it contains. For
Longmore, a studio is simply a space that has been purposed for
making art, and as such they can take many forms, existing as
legitimately in large airy warehouses as in the corners of rooms
within homes.
As Longmore states unequivocally, "The
project is not intended to survey the hidden studio practice of
artists, but rather to stimulate the production of [her] own work
within an unfamiliar environment" 1,
and it is vital to recognise the intention here, even whilst the
figure of the Other Artist and the mystifying space of the studio
loom large. She is not inviting the audience in to a studio in order
to make artistic practice transparent and accessible, or to glorify
the eccentric practices of artists at work. It is inevitable,
however, that the studios which she works within are in some way
shown and represented, whether simply through her pictures (which
can’t help but reveal a fragment of the site) or in the imagination
of the viewer, who is aware of the existence of an unknowable ‘other’
studio via knowledge of the process.
The work that Longmore has produced
and documented as part of Objects for a Studio is necessarily site
specific, and verges on the collaborative, albeit without
acknowledgement. Residencies, site specific artworks, and any project
where some form of contact, or negotiation is prerequisite, are bound
to be cooperative to some extent, but not necessarily collaborative.
Here, due to the intimate and personal nature of Longmore's
particular form of residency, it can be argued that a strange type of
collaboration is present. These collaborative traces are compelling
and enigmatic; simultaneously subverting and enacting traditional
notions, whilst exemplifying the ponderous ubiquity of collaboration
within contemporary art practice.
Intentional constraints as a catalyst
Whilst Objects for a Studio is a
self-contained project, Longmore utilises techniques that not only
allude to her wider practice, but can also be seen to communicate a
working ideology, referring to particular movements in art history,
as well as commenting on conventions in contemporary art. At base,
the project is a generative technique formulated by Longmore to act
as a catalyst within her practice, by way of devising a set of
constraints and rules to work within and against. This is referred to
by the artist in her statement of intent, describing the project as a
way "to stimulate the production of [her] own work within an
unfamiliar environment"2.
It may seem counter intuitive, to try and inspire new work by
developing boundaries, instead of aiming for complete freedom,
However, rules and constraints are an inevitable part of art-making.
The idea that admitting, probing and exploring boundaries can
generate ideas and new works is not a new one, and one can trace this
methodology to specific groups and movements in art history, such as
Fluxus (specifically in terms of event scores produced during the
1960's) and Oulipo (Ouvroir de Littérature Potentielle, or Workshop
of Potential Literature), a still-in-existence group founded in 1960
by Raymond Queneau and François Le Lionnais, who produce works of
literature using constrained writing techniques.
Within the aforementioned historical
groups, such procedures were usually specified in directives and
manifestos, with written rules being a requirement of generative
techniques. Similarly, in Objects for a Studio, the rules are
outlined as part of Longmore's publicly available statement, paying
particular attention to the emotional impact of the studio as a site
of production. The rules and constraints that Longmore has chosen are
not arbitrary, and Objects for a Studio is not an exercise in
automatic creation, or mechanical production. These rules have been
carefully chosen and developed, in order to amplify the intimacy and
intensity of the Artists’ chosen site, and to necessitate the
production of work, expounding a belief that by following
pre-determined maxims, we can unlock new and experimental forms of
creativity.
As well as the constraints of time,
space and material, which Longmore has chosen, Objects for a Studio
is also subject to obligatory practical constraints, which can be
seen to refer to the generality of making. There is a slippage here
between artistic intention and the influence of physical and temporal
context, in that, to some extent, all artists are working within
constraints that will have an effect on how their work develops.
However, Longmore takes this inevitability and deliberately utilises
it, rendering recognisable contemporary logistical pressures, such as
the necessity for forward planning and careful organisation of time,
fruitful rather than frustrating, whilst simultaneously operating
within the same systems that make this way of working unavoidable.
Objects for a Studio is not the first
of Longmore's projects to incorporate intentional generative
constraints. Her interest is initially apparent in the 2009 group
show IV, whereby Longmore and three other artists; Tom Baskeyfield,
Julie Del’Hopital, and Sarah Sanders wrote and adhered to four
maxims, in order to produce four works - one each - which would be
shown at Manchester's Rogue Project Space, in an exhibition with the
tagline “4 maxims, 4 artists, 4 works” . Each maxim, referred to
one of four "basic elements in the production of work"3,
defined by the artists as time, material, scale and thought or
systems of belief. Longmore describes how such constraints provided
the work with a context, and aided her ability to focus during the
making process, indicating that, for Longmore, the use of generative
techniques and the methods described above is definitively practical,
as well as ideological.
Returning to the discussion of Objects
for a Studio specifically, Longmore carefully manages her working
environment, which in turn becomes an intrinsic part of the temporary
sculptures which she produces and photographs. Within these
parameters, the artist also leaves room to manoeuvre creatively, and
it is clear that her intention is not to invite other artists to
follow her rules, and to produce their own Objects for a Studio.
Longmore describes herself as having been inspired by Sol Lewitt's
'sentences on conceptual art'4
in her use of rules and structures, however she does not go so far as
to fabricate systems whereby the actual work can be created by
anybody other than the herself. In his 'Paragraphs on Conceptual
Art', which was published simultaneously with 'Sentences...' Lewitt
declares that in the case of conceptual art "the execution is a
perfunctory affair. The idea becomes a machine that makes the art"5.
To some extent Objects for a Studio conforms to Lewitt's definition
of conceptual art, the process and technique of seeking out willing
artists, travelling to studios and spending exactly one day working
within them can be seen as the machine which makes the art. Yet,
there is a remaining contingency and subjectivity inherent in this
project, ensuring that each expression of the process cannot be
repeated, and this is a symptom of Longmore's chosen site.
Access to Other Artists' Studios
Referring once again Longmore's own
statement of intent, the artist describes the studio as a site of
intensity and feeling, declaring she "[hopes] to provoke the
extremes of emotion that the studio creates" 6.
By remarking upon the abstract and subjectively experienced
properties of the site, Longmore insinuates that by conducting these
residencies within studios, she will be able to produce spontaneity
and unknown outcomes, regardless of the predictability of repeated
actions generated by constraints. Thus, although Longmore uses a wide
definition of the studio, she still indicates that there is something
peculiar to these spaces, a quality which enables and inspires the
production of artwork. As well as defining the studio as a dedicated
space, Longmore also refers to studios as containers, playing a part
in forming the work which is produced within them, further
emphasizing the way that these sites have been selected, according to
a belief in their power to influence the formation of objects.
For the non-artist viewer, there is
also a level of mystery associated with the studio, a place of
privacy and genesis, which is only to be viewed by invite or at well
organised open studio events, and only then when the artist chooses
to take part. Paraphrased by Brian O'Doherty, in his preface to the
Salon of 1846, Baudelaire explains how the bourgeoisie might
"[consign] it's alienated imagination not only to the artist,
but to the magical space where art is pondered and brought into
being", expressing the concept of an arcane, and necessarily
confounded voyeurism around the public desire to see inside artists'
studios. The treatment of the studio in the process, and
documentation of Objects for a Studio, admits this mystical
voyeurism, whilst also managing to approach the site with sensitivity
and understanding, somewhat maintaining its' concealment from public
view. Thus, whilst expounding that studios are not public spaces,
Objects for a Studio offers a tantalising glimpse of the many studios
within which Longmore has worked, but makes no pretence to be showing
them in completeness. Instead, these other studios are presented
through a lens of artistic production, as a piece of Longmore's own
work in the form of a photograph.
The photograph as a mode of
representation presents only a snapshot, one angle of a wider, and
more nuanced situation. Therefore, the photograph is an appropriate
form for Objects for a Studio, as the audience is aware of unknowns
lurking beyond the frame. In this way, within Longmore's photographs,
studios are pictured as honestly as they can be, and are represented
as changing spaces of fluidity and temporality, by virtue of the
medium through which they are shown, and the nature of the sculptures
which have been photographed. This shifting form of representation,
which attempts to confound voyeurism through gestures appropriate to
the space, belies a deep and firsthand understanding of the nature of
studios, and is in clear contrast to other contemporary methods of
studio display. For instance, at The Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin,
artist Francis Bacon's studio has been catalogued and relocated from
London, to be displayed in what appears to be its' original state,
but is in fact "a carefully constructed artifice"7.
Bacon's Studio in Dublin is not the
only example of the studio being recreated in the gallery, whether by
curator or artist. In 1964 Lucas Samaris installed Room, a recreation
of his studio/bedroom at The Green Gallery in New York, presented for
public consumption as an artwork in itself. His reconstruction of a
studio, his treating every splatter and mote of dust as a vital part
of an artists' oeuvre, wilfully overlooks the fundamental privacy and
mutability of the studio that Longmore consciously attempts to
preserve in her representations: Brian O'Doherty refers to the nature
of artworks, whilst they remain within the studio, as aesthetically
unstable, a description which is applicable to Longmore's temporary
sculptures in a literal sense. Her works illustrate the instability
of time within the studio, with their very obvious physical frailty
and precarity.
Longmore's determined preservation of
the Other Artists' privacy emphasises the importance of studios as
confidential spaces, where artists' can experiment away from the
critical gaze. Given that Longmore is clearly interested in
respecting this requirement, it is interesting to consider her
process in gaining access to so many of these non-public spaces. In
practical terms, Longmore has found that gaining access to multiple
studios is much easier with the help and backing of an institution.
For instance, at present she is working as resident artist at Salford
University, which has allowed her to utilise the institution's
influence and networks in order to make contact with groups of
studios, and therefore to gain access to individual studios. This
detail once again raises the issue of how a high level of
administration and vigilant planning are often necessary for
contemporary artists: in this way, the structures which Longmore must
work within in order to accomplish her objectives affect in macro the
structures which she has consciously designed.
As discussed above, when Longmore
arranges to work for a day in an Other Artists' studio, she is not
proposing to present that studio to the public, or to invite the
audience inside. Instead she could be said to be proposing a
collaboration of sorts, whereby she treats the studio as she would
her own, using the space only as it has already been dedicated; as a
space in which to make work. Then, working within the knowledge that
this dedicated space, this studio, actually belongs to somebody else,
Longmore utilises paraphernalia of the Other Artists' practice both
as a point of inspiration, and as her medium. By her treatment of
studios within Objects for a Studio, Longmore is enacting a complex
form of cooperation and portrayal with the Other Artist and their
workspace which, as previously outlined, utilises a form of
representation which is appropriate to subject, thereby avoiding a
problematic fictionalisation of the site.
Collaboration
When Longmore goes to work for a day in
the Other Artist's studio, they are only sometimes there during the
process, and as such, it is not necessary for Objects for a Studio
that the two artists must work together in a literal, tangible way.
However, regardless of whether they are physically present or not,
the work which Longmore has produced and documented during Objects
for a Studio, could not have existed without the Other Artist's
practice. In this way, Longmore's practice in Objects for a Studio is
dependent on the Other Artists', and therefore a somewhat skewed form
of collaboration is implicit in the project. This peculiar
collaborative aspect is not directly addressed by Longmore, which
could be taken to indicate that it is not - at least not
intentionally - an integral part of the project. Yet, the spectral
figure of the Other Artist haunts Objects for a Studio, their
semi-anonymity in the process, confounding traditional conceptions of
collaboration.
In his discussion of contemporary
collaboration, The Third Hand, Charles Green posits the groupings of
the late 1960's as the beginnings of the sorts of self-consciously,
ideologically complex collaborations that we are familiar with today.
He also traces a trajectory for these practices, whereby
collaborations, and the collaborative theories which were abandoned
in favour of postmodernism in the 1980's, enjoyed a resurgence in the
late 1990's, indicating a belief that the current ubiquity of
collaborative practices, is part of a sweeping historical trend.
Green frames collaboration as an attempt to rethink artistic
identity, to either erase, or to somehow fundamentally alter the
signature of the artist. The process and results of Objects for a
Studio certainly approach the concept artistic identity in usual
ways, but there does not seem to be any ideologically inspired
erasure of the artists's signature. Instead of substituting the
identity of two or more artists for a separate, purely collaborative
'third hand' identity, Objects for a Studio is presented as a part of
Longmore's practice alone. Yet, the Other Artist is sometimes named,
or remains anonymous only by choice, and their existence is always
presented as being of central importance to the project. In this way,
the identities of two artists, Longmore and the Other Artist, are
simultaneously, but distinctly represented, and combined only
partially, and momentarily. This temporary synthesis being what
Longmore documents in her photographs.
Whilst both Longmore and the Other
Artists' actuality and identity are unquestionably represented here,
by working exclusively with the ephemera of the Other Artist's
practice, Longmore is generating an unequal relationship. It
seems that only one member of the team, Longmore, is conscious in the
production of work, and the other artist is acting as a
found-archive, opening up their practice to be used as the raw
material for somebody else's. Longmore's Objects for a Studio
effectively raises questions of artistic authorship, in how far the
Other Artist, the archive, is acknowledged, bringing to mind the
artistic use of found objects, where the original maker, or designer
will often go uncredited. Although, despite the apparently unequal
relationship between artist and archive, within Objects for a Studio,
consent is sought from participants, who can be assumed to understand
what it is that they're involving themselves with. This issue of
consent is crucial in seeking to understand the relationships which
are formed in the course of Objects for a Studio, indicating that
rather than exploitative and one-sided, they are multi-faceted and
consensual, which de-problematises the issue of attribution.
Objects for a Studio can be seen to
exist in two experientially distinct parts. For the Other Artist, and
anybody else involved with administration of the project, it would
happen as a kind of participatory performance, whereas, for the
viewer, Objects for a Studio exists as a series of documentary
photographs, and some copy explaining the process. This dual ontology
is typical of temporary and performative artworks, especially those
that cannot be repeated. Considering this experiential rupture, it
becomes clear that when we take the experience of the Other Artists
and other actors into account, Objects for a Studio can be perceived
as a form of temporal, interventionist, performance art. By
presenting the project via a website, a standing document of copy and
pictures, Longmore is communicating the importance of the process, of
what happens outside of and around the pictures, that capture just a
moment of the entire performance which goes to make up the work. The
extent to which Longmore explains Objects for a Studio to the
audience can be taken as intentional, and as an example of how much
we are supposed to know about the project. Longmore gives us a
general sense, and a broad description of the process, but few
details. Details and interest are saved to be expressed in the
photographs, the only opportunity for the viewer's curiosity to be
visually sated, which infuses the pictures with possibilities and
projected meanings, appropriately expressing the aforementioned
intensity of the site.
It has already been established that
the collaborative aspects of Objects for a Studio are not calculated,
they appear intrusive, or to have been unavoidable, and this
apparently inadvertent form of collaboration raises the issue of
whether collaboration has become somehow embedded within contemporary
art practice. The structures and habits which are now noticeably
pervasive within contemporary art making - residencies, networking,
collectives, and a striving for diversity of voices - are clearly
appropriate to the practice of collaboration. Perhaps collaboration
is now synonymous with so many of the common practices within
contemporary art that its manifestation within Objects for a Studio
is inevitable. Administration necessitates communication
and cooperation with others as an integral part of the artwork, which
can perhaps be considered as a form of collaboration, within which
these other helpers and performers have become part of a transient
collective with Longmore.
As Andrea Thal explains, when two or
more artists work together there is a level of discussion and
planning that takes place prior to the actual production of any art
work, which can be seen as a work in itself, and is in fact typical
of collectives, which are then typical within contemporary art
practice; "this communication, the exchange leading to the
production of something, is a collective's very first, and probably
most typical work"8.
In the case of Objects for a Studio the communication, discussion,
planning and admin that takes place prior to the actual studio day is
of a particular pre-determined type, wrought out through trial and
error over the four years that the project has run. Longmore has
taken Objects for a Studio to a number of different geographical
locations, working in over sixty studios, inferring a significant
amount of discussion, planning, and indeed work, before anything
recognisable as art-work can take place. However, in terms of Thal's
analysis of collaborative practice, this arrangement, which has
become typical of the project, could be taken as a form of art work.
Conclusion
The temporality that
is inherent in Objects for a Studio resists straightforward analysis,
and the ways in which Longmore attempts to play with the conventions
of contemporary art from within art-world structures, creates a fluid
and shifting aesthetic, which hints, but does not pronounce. The
photographs form a coherent body of work, communicating the
particular qualities of the studio as a site in which time and space
behave unusually, by virtue of the kind of work that is conducted
within. These photographs form a document of the project, and refer
to it in the same way as a sign, signifying the amorphous and
fluctuating whole, which exemplifies and enacts common practices, and
necessities associated with working as an artist.
Longmore does not seem to be offering
an argument or manifesto, or even a judgement on the structures which
this work traverses, and yet the project raises a plethora of
questions including but not limited to; what constitutes artistic
collaboration in a situation where working together is often
essential, although not necessarily an intentional device? In the
context of Objects for a Studio this gentle, non-judgemental exposure
is sufficient. Were aspects of the project, such as behind-the-scenes
administration, to be documented along with Longmore's assemblages,
their ontology would be altered, losing their status as real and
turning the whole process into pure performance.
Longmore avoids this, explaining only
what she considers to be necessary for the audience to appreciate the
work, and refusing to offer an analysis of the situation. There is a
sense of rightful privacy expounded by Longmore - whilst her
photographs depict beautiful but unsettling moments in which objects
bristle with the energy of things being other than they should, of
rearrangement, of experimentation. The studio is, perhaps, the only
dedicated space where such incidental experimentation is allowed, but
any site could be a studio, and it only takes a dedication. Thereby
the assignation of function to spaces becomes like a mystical spell,
just as ground can be consecrated, so a space can be dedicated. It is
with these hints pertaining to abstract concepts and magic that
Longmore counteracts what could be an otherwise unequivocal
experience for the viewer, of repeated actions resulting in pictures.
Bibliography
Crawford, Holly.
Artistic Bedfellows: Histories, Theories and Conversations in
Collaborative Art Practices. University Press of America (2008)
Grabner, Michelle &
Jacob, Mary Jane Eds. The Studio Reader: On the space of artist.
University of chicago Press (2010)
Green, Charles. The
Third Hand: Collaboration in Art from Conceptualism to
Postmodernism. UNSW Press (2001)
LeWitt, Sol,
"Paragraphs on Conceptual Art," in: Artforum (1967),
79–83; A. Legg (ed.)
Longmore, Jessica.
Jessica Longmore: artist. URL:
http://seabrookhost.com/jessica/?page_id=83 [2012 - 2013]
O'Doherty, Brian. Studio
and Cube. A FORuM Project Publication (2007)
1http://seabrookhost.com/jessica/?page_id=83
2http://seabrookhost.com/jessica/?page_id=83
3http://seabrookhost.com/jessica/?page_id=88
4Lewitt,
Sol 'Sentences on Conceptual Art', Art Forum 1967
5Lewitt,
Sol 'Paragraphs on Conceptual Art', Art Forum 1967
6http://seabrookhost.com/jessica/?page_id=83
7David
J. Getsy, “The Reconstruction of the Francis Bacon Studio in
Dublin”, The Studio Reader: On the space of artists p.102
8Thal,
Andrea, "Complicity", Artistic Bedfellows: Histories,
Theories and Conversations in Collaborative Art Practices, ed:
Crawford, Holly (2008)
Labels:
appropriate gesture,
Art Studio,
intentional constraint,
Jessica Longmore,
Objects for a Studio,
Photography,
Sculpture
Friday, 14 December 2012
Hoist by Our Own Petard - introductory essay
To be hoist by your own petard means to
be blown up by your own bomb, and that's a risk that we are willing
to take. HbOOP is an experiment with 'art' as the subject, and with
'money' and 'every day life' as variables, but there are no
guarantees that 'art' as we know it will survive the process. HbOOP
firstly takes the form of an exhibition, where objects and pictures
of stunning complexity and gross candour invite you to consider the
nature of skill, effort and creativity. Of the individual artworks
which go to form HbOOP(the exhibition), the majority were constructed
within the creators home, and the concept of 'home' is a concern
within much of the work on show. This is made evident with familiar
and perhaps comforting shapes, textures, and colours; to some extent
the gallery is made domestic. However the home is as much a site of
disgust as it is of comfort, and if there is a boundary between the
two, it is impossible to define.
In the work of Darren Adcock,
cancerous cellular patterns coalesce into dystopian cityscapes, which
appear at once distant and magnified. Adcocks pictures are
meticulously hand drawn, with patterns that seem to have germinated
instinctively. Similarly, in the work of Pascal Nichols, bulbous and
irregularly limbed sculptural forms purposefully emphasize the
base-ness of clay, whilst sitting snugly on household shelves,
displayed (or stored) in their intended situation as part of a room.
Suspended centrally, Susan Fitzpatrick's mutant, overdeveloped
creature-garments confound with their sinister, cute, woolliness.
Knitting is a richly connotative technique, and is
employed by Fitzpatrick without strict
patterns or traditional 'grandma' skill, yet cheerfully bright
'hats' seem as though they would
protect the wearer from more than just the cold. Meanwhile, Kerry
Hindmarch paints with oils, making pictures which seek to expose the
perversities which underly social conditioning. Hindmarch's interests
lie in the abject and maternal, expressed via violent daubings of
colour, which congeal into raging figures, and non sequential
narratives. Joincey's is the largest body of work on show, whereby a
superabundance of incidental photographic images give a baffling, but
honest, account of a life. Hunker down in a curtained grotto to view
the world through pictures taken on a whim, created in a moment,
which are now archived, arranged and projected for your pleasure.
Hboop takes place as part of Free For
Arts Festival, a week long series of exhibitions and events which
seeks to “provide
inventive and unique experiences for the public “on the house”,
and it is within this context that we will question the 'Free-ness'
of art. The five artists who's work features do not consider
themselves to be 'professional artists', as is evidenced in their
first hand accounts. Here, art happens in between and as part of
'work' and 'leisure', it does not have it's own distinct space set
aside, with equal status. This means that time spent doing art can't
help but be perceived as time lost from 'work' and 'leisure'. Art is
the co-opted, and becomes part of both; which is discussed in more
depth by Susan Fitzpatrick in; Art
and uneven development's cause is one: reflections on art and
'regeneration'.
For
art to flourish, and to be a way of experimenting, is it necessary to
carve out a third space of “action” as defined by Hannah Arendt1,
whereby thinking, making and experimenting 'for the sake of it' would
be vital? In order to explore this question, and others, you are
invited on Sunday the 21st
of October 2012, to take part in a microcosmic badge-making economy,
where you must put a price on your own creativity. Meanwhile, in
conjunction with the 'Free for Arts Publishing Fair', musicians will
peddle their songs for whatever you are willing to pay. Songs being
an extreme example of how ubiquitous it has become to acquire
commodities, for prices which do not reflect the labour that created
them, and how it is essential that we examine our spending habits to
work out how, and if, art can be 'free'. We will also be holding a
'Sumi Ink Club Meeting'2,
whereby you, and everybody else, are invited to contribute to a
collaborative ink drawing. 'Sumi Ink Club' was founded in 2005 by
artists' Sarah Rara and
Luke Fischbeck, as a kind of accessible social therapy, and will form
a much needed counterpoint to the individualistic, and speculative
nature of badge-making-business and human jukeboxes.
1Arendt,
Hannah the Human Condition (1958) The University of Chicago
2http://sumiinkclub.com/
Labels:
Ceramic,
Drawing,
Free For Arts Festival 2012,
Hoist by Our Own Petard,
Islington Mill,
Knitting Art,
Photography,
Salford,
Sculpture
Saturday, 25 August 2012
Hoist by Our Own Petard - a group exhibition and interactive workshop experiment, as part of Free For Arts Festival 2012
This is my personal response to a curatorial project that I've been working on:
A few months ago Pascal Nicholls approached me to ask if I would be interested in helping him to organise an exhibition of a few of his friends' work; a diverse group, some of whom are ostensibly Artists, whereas others make art, but are ambivalent about situating themselves within any kind of 'art world'. Originally pitched as a straightforward group exhibition, with the opportunity for the Artists' to sell multiples of their work if they wish, Hoist by Our Own Petard has developed into something quite different, so much so that sometimes I'm not sure what it is, or who and what will be on show between the 19th and 26th of October. I've taken on the role of a project manager/curator/performance artist, in that I listen to other people's ideas, and then with my own in-put try to bring them to fruition.
During mine and Pascal's discussions around the sale of multiples, we were forced to approach something which is a particular fascination of mine; spending habits. I feel that responsibility is inherent in the privilege of even meagre disposable income, responsibility both to yourself in that you must buy what you need, and can buy what you want, but also responsibility to the workers who's labour has gone towards the products that you buy. These obligations often contradict one another, and when applied to the making and selling of art seem to almost break down and lose all meaning. In that nobody needs art in order to feed, clothe and wash themselves, but art is not a luxury in the same way as a massive new telly or a shiny new car would be. Whilst researching this complication I came across Hannah Arendt's tripartite division of work, labour and action. Her definition of action is the most appropriate way to define art in contemporary, western, capitalist society that I have encountered, in that it doesn't really fit within contemporary, western, capitalist society. That's not to say that I agree with everything she says, and I'm still working my way through The Human Condition, but I feel that a tripartite division with room for something other than 'work' and 'leisure' is really useful in the context of contemporary art.
Our frustration and confusion at how to market and price art inspired the 'interactive experiment' which will happen alongside the group exhibition for one day during its' week long run. The 'interactive experiment' is not directly related to what is expressed through the work on show, the best way to describe it would probably be as 'parallel'. This feels wrong, somehow, and may well be seen as arrogant curators trying to upstage the art work which it is their job to proffer, but I would like to describe it as a playful attempt to approach a white elephant. There will be three workshops which examine the relationship of art to commerce, each of which incorporates an inevitable absurdity. We are still ironing out the details, and so I won't attempt to coherently describe them yet.
Hoist by Our Own Petard will take place at Islington Mill as part of Free For Arts Festival 2012, between the 19th and 26th of October, with the 'interactive experiment' taking place on the 21st of October.
Exhibiting Artists
Pascal Nicholls: http://wretchumbra.blogspot.co.uk/p/lando-lansard.html
Darren Adcock: http://wretchumbra.blogspot.co.uk/p/suk-ninmyo.html
Susan Fitzpatrick: http://piggysilks.blogspot.co.uk/
Kerry Hindmarch: http://www.saatchionline.com/kerryfrancesa
Joincey: http://joincey.tumblr.com/
Official Copy
Islington Mill will host an exhibition entitled Hoist By Our Own Petard co-curated by Pascal Nicholls and Lauren Velvick. They are currently developing a project which will take the form of a group exhibition and an interactive experiement. There is a dual intention to this project; they want to arrange a fairly straightforward exhibition of the selected artists' work, but will also use the opportunity to interrogate issues surrounding art and labour, inspired by Hannah Arendt's differention of work, labor and action.
Each of the exhibiting artists; Sue Fitzpatrick, Joincey, Kerry Hindmarch, Darren Adcock and Pascal Nicholls, work in a different traditionally recognisable medium, enabling the exhibition to function as a microcosm, within which we can explore issues which bear upon all art-making. They will also produce an accompanying publication, containing the responses of each artist to a questionnaire which they have written, providing data on how art-making fits into everyday life, work and leisure.
In this way Hoist by Our Own Petard will function as an experiment. Finally, they would like to construct an interactive, participatory experiement whereby vistors are invited to 'make something' within one of the mediums exemplified by the work present, eventually providing another set of data which can go towards further research and publications.
http://www.freeforartsfestival.co.uk/
Labels:
Ceramic,
Curating,
Drawing,
Hannah Arendt,
Installation,
Interactive,
Islington Mill,
Knitting Art,
Oil Painting,
Photography,
The Human Condition
Thursday, 31 May 2012
Victoria Baths Fanzine Convention - Cooperative Workshop
A participant preparing his foam to print..... (credit for all photographs goes to Natalie Bradbury)
Working, again, with photocopied materials from the VB (Victoria Baths) archives, we invited participants to collage, print and illustrate an A3 page which would be bound into a giant collaborative zine at the end of the day. As the pages were made we hung them around the room, like bunting, which looked nice and was also a good source of inspiration for participants.
The first few pages are are clipped around the space for inspiration (credit for all photographs goes to Natalie Bradbury)
The 'giant collaborative zine' part was a total experiment, but I'm pleased to say it all worked out well, and we were left with a hand bound book, which can be opened out and hung as bunting, too. I want to develop and hone the idea of the collaborative book, stitching all the pages on to their string spine was a little awkward and needs to be re-thought to make it easier for more people to join in. However, it still worked, and all in all it was a fun, fulfilling day.
Here's an online copy of the giant VB fanzine, thanks go to Natalie for scanning each page!
Labels:
Bookbinding,
Bunting,
Cooperatives,
Lino Cutting,
Relief Printing,
Victoria Baths Fanzine Convention,
Workshop
Thursday, 19 April 2012
Idris Khan, 'The Devil's Wall' - a review
Idris Khan: The Devil’s Wall at The Whitworth Art Gallery 23 rd Feb - 3 rd May 2012: Review

Idris Khan’s installation The Devil’s Wall consists of three monumental sculptures, teamed with seven drawings chosen from a series of twenty one, called 21 stones, and four photographic works entitled Voices. Khan draws inspiration from the Hajj; the pilgrimage to Mecca, and presents both religious and secular imagery, utilising the written word in Arabic and English, as well as musical scores.
Idris Khan, The Devil's Wall, 2011. Courtesy of Victoria Miro Gallery, London and Yvon Lambert Gallery, New York.
Idris Khan’s installation The Devil’s Wall consists of three monumental sculptures, teamed with seven drawings chosen from a series of twenty one, called 21 stones, and four photographic works entitled Voices. Khan draws inspiration from the Hajj; the pilgrimage to Mecca, and presents both religious and secular imagery, utilising the written word in Arabic and English, as well as musical scores.
Khan’s use of text in order to draw shapes in the 7 of 21 drawings is somewhat reminiscent of traditional Islamic sacred art, whereby letters and words are used to create elaborate patterns. However, with these drawings Khan has not created elaborate, overtly beautiful patterns. Instead there are largely circular, uneven formations composed of overlapping phrases. These shapes which are simultaneously violent and joyous correlate with those parts of the text which are discernible; a combination of sacred chants and deeply personal disclosures. In this way parallels can be drawn with concrete poetry, and as such the 7 of 21 drawings reference both traditional Islamic Art, and much more recent movements in the history of art. The way in which Khan emphasizes similarities between techniques employed in traditional, sacred art forms and contemporary art is also evident, and much more pronounced in Voices, which are based on 20th century minimalist compositions.
The Voices series is visually very different from the other pieces; they are rectangular, lined and effervescent, where the 7 of 21 drawings are round, with inky black and blue. Moreover, the roundness which Khan has produced in the 7 of 21 Drawings is clearly echoed in the three weighty sculptures which mirror their shape and colours, but with a smooth and glistening perfection. The immediacy of the drawings is not present in the sculptures, although they too have overlapping phrases recorded upon their surface. On the sculptures words are inscribed, showing as silver upon a glassy, seemingly infinite surface, and instead of becoming incomprehensible in a mess of ink at the centre they flow together and disappear into the dark.
Significantly, the title of this installation The Devil's Wall, refers to one particular ritual within the Hajj; the stoning of the Jamarat, during which, pilgrims throw seven stones at three walls in three different locations. Thus, it becomes clear why there are three sculptures and seven drawings, the concave shape of the sculptures represents the bowls which are used to collect the stones after they have been thrown, and following this logic perhaps the drawings are an illustration of their impact. Stones are thrown in order to rid the body and mind of destructive thoughts and pain, and the combination of religious and personal statements which are just about discernible in the 7 drawings could be the residue of a meditative purge.
An astonishing amount of people take part in the Hajj each year, experiencing their pilgrimage together, and the concept of shared experience is thoroughly explored in The Devil's Wall, with a definite sense of multifarious and overlapping voices, elegantly expressed with tangled lines of text. Furthermore, Khan's use of three languages is compelling , in that it seems at first to make language a dividing tool. The experience of a viewer who understands Arabic, English and can read music could be very different from somebody who is fluent in only one of them. Yet, everybody is equally unable to read as the words and notes overlap and merge together in each piece, which in turn evokes a nonlingual, more primal kind of experience.
The distinct feelings which becoming part of a crowd engender, whether in religious or other circumstances, are explored and represented by Khan throughout; particularly in Voices where meditative chanting and repetitive sounds are depicted with transcribed music. Here Khan employs one of his signature techniques, overlaying delicate photographic prints to create a visually confusing, ghostly image which seems to long for movement whilst remaining still. In Voices Khan uses the scores of compositions by Philip Glass and Steve Reich, pieces which famously use repetitive structures and overlapping rhythms. By including Voices within The Devil's Wall Khan contrives a direct association between the communal actions of thousands of pilgrims simultaneously taking part in the rituals of the Hajj, and the meditative, stupefying potential of experiencing a performance of these minimalist scores.
The use of lighting in this exhibition is also significant to the viewer's experience, and is particularly striking is terms of Voices, whereby direct lighting makes the pieces appear as golden windows shining into the dim room, bringing to mind sacred buildings and again exemplifying Khans mingling of religious and secular imagery. At the Whitworth Art Gallery low lighting is often employed to protect the delicate fabrics and papers of their collection. However in The Devil’s Wall notable atmospheric lighting is used in the display of contemporary pieces, which lends them the type of reverence usually only afforded to historical works. In the shapes and effects which Khan has employed we can discern bowls, walls and temples, but also black holes, explosions and a perhaps most of all a sense of immensity. Khan's treatment of profoundly sacred subject matter successfully humanises and demystifies religious ritual, whilst simultaneously preserving a sense of awe in linking such ritual with contemporary and secular forms of contemplation.
The Voices series is visually very different from the other pieces; they are rectangular, lined and effervescent, where the 7 of 21 drawings are round, with inky black and blue. Moreover, the roundness which Khan has produced in the 7 of 21 Drawings is clearly echoed in the three weighty sculptures which mirror their shape and colours, but with a smooth and glistening perfection. The immediacy of the drawings is not present in the sculptures, although they too have overlapping phrases recorded upon their surface. On the sculptures words are inscribed, showing as silver upon a glassy, seemingly infinite surface, and instead of becoming incomprehensible in a mess of ink at the centre they flow together and disappear into the dark.
Significantly, the title of this installation The Devil's Wall, refers to one particular ritual within the Hajj; the stoning of the Jamarat, during which, pilgrims throw seven stones at three walls in three different locations. Thus, it becomes clear why there are three sculptures and seven drawings, the concave shape of the sculptures represents the bowls which are used to collect the stones after they have been thrown, and following this logic perhaps the drawings are an illustration of their impact. Stones are thrown in order to rid the body and mind of destructive thoughts and pain, and the combination of religious and personal statements which are just about discernible in the 7 drawings could be the residue of a meditative purge.
An astonishing amount of people take part in the Hajj each year, experiencing their pilgrimage together, and the concept of shared experience is thoroughly explored in The Devil's Wall, with a definite sense of multifarious and overlapping voices, elegantly expressed with tangled lines of text. Furthermore, Khan's use of three languages is compelling , in that it seems at first to make language a dividing tool. The experience of a viewer who understands Arabic, English and can read music could be very different from somebody who is fluent in only one of them. Yet, everybody is equally unable to read as the words and notes overlap and merge together in each piece, which in turn evokes a nonlingual, more primal kind of experience.
The distinct feelings which becoming part of a crowd engender, whether in religious or other circumstances, are explored and represented by Khan throughout; particularly in Voices where meditative chanting and repetitive sounds are depicted with transcribed music. Here Khan employs one of his signature techniques, overlaying delicate photographic prints to create a visually confusing, ghostly image which seems to long for movement whilst remaining still. In Voices Khan uses the scores of compositions by Philip Glass and Steve Reich, pieces which famously use repetitive structures and overlapping rhythms. By including Voices within The Devil's Wall Khan contrives a direct association between the communal actions of thousands of pilgrims simultaneously taking part in the rituals of the Hajj, and the meditative, stupefying potential of experiencing a performance of these minimalist scores.
The use of lighting in this exhibition is also significant to the viewer's experience, and is particularly striking is terms of Voices, whereby direct lighting makes the pieces appear as golden windows shining into the dim room, bringing to mind sacred buildings and again exemplifying Khans mingling of religious and secular imagery. At the Whitworth Art Gallery low lighting is often employed to protect the delicate fabrics and papers of their collection. However in The Devil’s Wall notable atmospheric lighting is used in the display of contemporary pieces, which lends them the type of reverence usually only afforded to historical works. In the shapes and effects which Khan has employed we can discern bowls, walls and temples, but also black holes, explosions and a perhaps most of all a sense of immensity. Khan's treatment of profoundly sacred subject matter successfully humanises and demystifies religious ritual, whilst simultaneously preserving a sense of awe in linking such ritual with contemporary and secular forms of contemplation.
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Manchester Artists' Bonfire
This is a piece both about and for the Artists' Bonfire. I was comissioned to write an accompanying essay for the event, which was a great opportunity to get my ideas and opinions straight. I went last year and while I had fun, I've never been quite sure what I think about the whole thing. I've heard lots of criticisms and lots of 'urgh I just don't like it' so I wanted to incorporate that in the piece. It was never meant to be a hymn to the event, or even positive, but the more I thought about it all the more I liked the idea. This is just the first part, I want to look into non-western sacred art, where the destruction is as important as the creation, in relation to how the participating artists feel that the fire affects their practice.
http://manchesterartistsbonfire2012.tumblr.com/
http://manchesterartistsbonfire2012.tumblr.com/
creation>reception>destruction>creation>reception>destruction
In January 2011 the Manchester Artists’ Bonfire happened for the first time. At its genesis the event was heavily influenced and stimulated by anger, confusion and panic at cuts in government funding which have been inflicted on the cultural sector. This element of the event was emphasized in the official literature, and in some ways it felt like an extension of protests which had been taking place as a reaction to the rise in tuition fees. The question of funding for non-compulsory education is, of course, another issue similar to that of funding for the arts, whereby much of the argument relies on qualitative judgements and abstract concepts, versus the arguably more ‘real’ issue of cost. The Artists Bonfire' is taking place again this year and aims to become a regular annual event, which removes it from the particular conditions of its first manifestation. Whilst we have still been grappling with issues surrounding 'the cuts' since last January, the situation is different, and it will differ every year from now on.
With this in mind I seek to avoid dismissing the Artists' Bonfire purely as a form of protest, rooted within the wider context of demonstration, riot, and occupation. It can be argued that whilst the historical and political context of the event is important, there are fundamental art historical questions concerning iconoclasm, reception and the status of art in contemporary society which the Artists’ Bonfire raises. It is the above which I seek to address; how the event functions as a collaborative performance, and what the destruction of a work of art means in terms of its status as art, especially when such destruction is engendered by the artists themselves.
One of the initial criteria for submitting work to the fire was for the participant to give a speech, to say something about their work, their practice, the event, and what it means to them. This requirement to verbally express thoughts and feelings about your work coherently, in front of your artistic peers and non-participating viewers, is an incredibly important part of the event. Galvanised into action by a financial threat to the credibility, and sustainability of a vocation which the participants had chosen to devote their lives to, they were also required to at the last moment justify and explain their choices. Thus, whilst fire and destruction in the context of politically motivated anger is at once evocative, exciting and notably clichéd, significantly there is also a platform for debate and uncertainty amidst the fever of action and destruction.
Unsurprisingly the contentious and evocative nature of fire, along with the very notion of will full destruction has attracted harsh, and not unfounded criticism. In this way the event recalls the famous iconoclastic orgies of history and as such jars with a traditional conception of how art works should be handled. This destruction for the sake-of-it could be construed as a pretentious tantrum, indeed to many the whole event seems distasteful and decadent; a spectacle to gawk at but with no serious artistic content. If we are reacting to a perceived threat, and criticism of our conception of art as a vitally important part of society, then wouldn't it make sense to treat artworks with reverence? A simple way to counteract such hostility is to merely acknowledge that art which processually self destructs is not without precedent, there is a rich history of contemporary art for which decay and eventual disintegration are essential components. Dario Gamboni recognises this in his discussion of iconoclasm and vandalism, but also accedes that this is not a 'normal' way to treat works of art. Thus, he concludes, that 'attacks' “can prove particularly useful for illuminating those 'normal' attitudes”1.
The above point is vital in relation to the Artists Bonfire, whilst perhaps 'attack' isn't the most appropriate word in this context; the Artists who take part are forced to confront their 'normal' attitudes toward their work, and that of others. We could invoke the old adage; “You don't know what you've got till it's gone”, which neatly sums up philosophical attitudes pertaining to the benefit of exploring death, destruction and the abject. Thus, an important message that the Artists’ Bonfire can convey, is that in order to genuinely appreciate the value of creativity, it is necessary to confront the inevitability of death and decay in both objects and ideas. Furthermore, by forcing ourselves as artists to confront these difficult ideas, and to question our own ingrained and comfortable attitudes towards art, we can better formulate defences against the ideological attacks which recent funding cuts have precipitated. Reverence here would not be helpful, we need to delve and discuss in order to carve out a place of Art in an austere society where, for good or ill, respect is increasingly difficult to maintain for anything which is not incontestably pragmatic.
As well as being a forum for artists , the Artists' Bonfire is also open for non-participants to attend, and with a club night afterwards there is a definite element of entertainment and spectacle. With this in mind I wish to further analyse the event in terms of its identity as a collaborative performance, which can be viewed and experienced aesthetically by an audience. Returning to the above argument pertaining to the problem of how we treat artworks, it is necessary to further define why a reverent attitude towards art can be construed as unhelpful in audiences as well as artists. From the viewpoint of a spectator, as I was at last years event, if the Artists’ Bonfire is essentially a way to reaffirm the credibility of art and creativity, it is somewhat disconcerting that the treatment of art during the event/performance runs contrary to traditional defences of art against iconoclasm. Such defences have sought to ideologically raise art above political or religious persecution on the grounds that it is autonomous, and therefore should not be judged by any criteria other than that which has purely to do with art itself.
However, considering art to be autonomous is perhaps not as advantageous as it may seem; Michael Kelly argues that identifying art in this way engenders a 'disinterested' attitude towards it. In this context 'disinterest' is taken in both the philosophical, and every day sense2. Kelly locates iconoclasm in this 'disinterested' understanding of art as autonomous, an interpretation which is particular to modern and contemporary art, turning a traditional and historical view of what iconoclasm looks like on its head. To elucidate further; disinterest in philosophical terms, originally defined by Immanuel Kant in his Critique of Judgement3, calls for art to be apprehended independently of bodily desires. Kelly argues that this type of disinterestedness consequently breeds disinterest in terms of a general indifference towards art. This is not to suggest that all art should be politically committed in order to have credibility, rather that art and creativity can be part of life along with eating, shitting, having sex and walking to the shops. Art does not have to be partially incomprehensible and removed from the mundane, necessary and genuinely exciting parts of life.
With this in mind, art which admits annihilation necessarily by dint of the materials from which it is made, or how it is employed by the artist, confounds the viewer’s ability to appreciate with philosophical disinterestedness. Danger, disgust and recognition act as a barrier to reverence. In terms of the Artists' Bonfire, whereby art works which may not have been initially intended to decay into oblivion, are wilfully destroyed by the artist, this dissension from disinterested appreciation is intensified. This is because, referring back to my earlier point about the 'normal' way to treat works of art, the pledges which are incinerated during the event/performance have often been removed by their creator from their 'normal' situation. This cannot be taken as writ, submissions would be welcome from those who work within ephemeral media, but nonetheless work in relatively traditional media is the norm.
Therefore, the vast majority of work submitted does not coincide with what we would usually recognise as temporary art work, which is intended to decay as part of its directive. In 2011 there were no pieces made with food or bodily matter that would ordinarily deteriorate when exposed to air and moisture, rather there was paper, wood, wax and glass, which when consigned to flames cracked, melted, crumbled and decomposed at an alarming rate. I don't pretend to claim that this rejection of philosophical disinterestedness makes the pledges more 'interesting' in every day terms for every spectator, rather that the nature of the Artists' Bonfire as exciting, destructive, voyeuristic and sensual does not detract from its' status as serious art.
1Gamboni, Dario The Destruction of Art: Iconoclasm and Vandalism since the French Revolution Reaktion Books Ltd. (1997)
2Kelly, Michael Iconoclasm in Aesthetics Cambridge University Press (2003)
3Kant, Immanuel Critique of Judgement First published (1914)
Labels:
Arts Cuts,
Creation,
Destruction,
Discussion,
Fire,
Islington Mill,
Manchester Artists Bonfire,
Rosanne Robertson
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